


I'll get you a dress

by CockAsInTheBird



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fingerfucking, Mirror Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/pseuds/CockAsInTheBird
Summary: Saddened by the fact that Inquisitor Lavellan didn't get to wear a dress at Halamshiral, Krem decided to keep his promise of helping her buy a dress, but he was not prepared for how she would look in it, and what it'd do to him.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Inquisitor, Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Lavellan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	I'll get you a dress

**Author's Note:**

> DAI Krem fanfiction?? In 2020??? What?! This has been sitting as a WIP for 5 fucking years, and with quarantine in my town, I finally found time to finish this, and hopefully start a new one soon, hmmm... My love for him hasn't dwindled in all these years, and I miss writing for mine and others pleasure.

It was rare that the Inquisitor got to have a day off. Very rare, very very rare. Everyone always needed her attention for one thing or another, as if she had the answers to most everything.

But today she had been rescued by one particular soldier, whom aimed to keep his promise about getting her a dress.

  
  


Val Royeaux is a beautiful city of blue, ivory, and gold. It's a lazy afternoon with barely anyone walking the streets; perfect timing for Lavellan and Krem to go about their little trip with not too many scrutinizing gazes.

With some difficulty, they had managed to make their way into an extravagant apparel boutique. The salesclerk had stared at them with an unpleasant expression to her, but the two of them had gotten proficient at ignoring such people, and had managed to pick a few dresses out for the elven mage to try on.

Even the dressing room was ostentatious, with it being completely closed off to the rest of the store, a plushy bench, a curtain to divide the room and a couple of mirrors with decorated, golden frames.

Krem sits on the white bench, dressed without his armour in a simple shirt and pants, very unimpressive, like a farm boy, compared to his surroundings. But he doesn't care, he was perfectly happy none the less here with Lavellan near.

She herself wore nothing eloquent, just a tight blue shirt and a pair of tan pants. Both of them stood out like a sore thumb among things fit for royalty.

“I wish we had done this before we ate lunch!” Lavellan chuckles as she hangs the three dresses up they've chosen for her. “I feel stuffed and bloated now.”

“Well it wouldn't have been any more fun if we were hungry.” Krem smiles at her. “You look great no matter what you eat or wear.”

“I run around every day, it's quite slimming! But thank you.” She smiles back and they share a fond look for a moment.

It had been a couple of weeks since their tryst at the palace, and the Inquisitor had been impossibly busy and constantly exhausted every day following. It hadn't gotten awkward between them thankfully, and the sexual tension was as heavy as ever, yet it seemed more relaxed somehow. They could share more caring looks now, less hungry and lustful, yet they had both been dreaming about one another.

“I'm starting with this blue one.” She pulls the curtain and immediately starts getting undressed.

“I know I said I'd get you a dress, but I'm worried the prices here might be a bit out of my range,” Krem says from the other side of the curtain.

Lavellan doesn't answer right away, as she's caught in her own mind. She looks at her naked frame in the mirror, lightly scarred, lean muscles and pale skin. A hand breezes over a breast, as her mind composes a dozen fantasies, making a tingling sensation flutter through her at the images. It was happening again; the two of them alone in public, her impure thoughts of him barging in on a perfect situation.

“Don't worry, I didn't actually expect you to pay for any of these pretentiously priced dresses!” She speaks a bit too loudly as she remembers what he had said.

The dress is surprisingly easy to get into, even if it has some layers creating a maze of fabric. It's pale blue, her favourite colour, much less expansive than what's mostly in fashion currently. Her shoulders are bare and her small chest is accentuated, as the dress cuts a clean line across the top. As she twists and turns in the mirror, she realizes it kind of looks like what Celene wore, just a bit slimmer and a different blue, with a wide slit in the front to show off a white layer beneath.

“Well? Can I see it on you?” Krem asks impatiently and stands up from his seat.

“I might actually need your help... I can't reach all the buttons on the back,” she says and makes a last futile attempt.

“Anything your worship needs,” he speaks with a charming and obedient tone, then pulls the curtain aside.

And he freezes.

She stands with her back to him, but can clearly see his expression in the mirror. His eyes are wide, but quickly loses the shocked stare and becomes titillating, a certain gleam to them that speaks volumes without him even opening his mouth.

His eyes glide over her bare back, up over her shoulders and to her exposed neck from her hair being up in a ponytail. Eventually he looks her directly in the eyes through the mirror, and just with that gaze, sets her body aflame. He breathes deeply to calm himself down, as he takes controlled steps up to her.

She breathes the same rhythm and glances over her shoulder, to watch him reach for the dress. She wants him to tear off the dress, to grab onto her tightly, press her against the mirror with fervour and press into her, fuck her with all he can. If last time changed anything, it was that now she only wanted him even more, with memories of how impressively he can exceed any other man she has been with.

With barely controlled hands, however, he buttons up the dress. Lavellan finds herself slightly disappointed, lurid thoughts had quickly consumed her mind, but with the tightening around her chest from the tight bust, she realised she has to calm down.

That is, until Krem finished with the numerous buttons. His eyes follows his hands where they glide down the curve of her back, down to where the skirt starts, then around to her front and upwards.

“Makers breath, you are the most _gorgeous_ woman I have ever seen,” he whispers as he places his lips by the crook of her neck. His eyes meets hers in the mirror.

As his hands feels up the dress, over her stomach and across her ribs, her breath quickens in anticipation. And when he cups her slight breasts bulging over the deep neckline, she lets escape a breathy moan as her chest flutters with heat. He massages them softly, coaxing soft whimpers from her as he runs his thumbs over her nipples.

“No other woman in all of the world can compare,” he says with a low tone, he watches her intently in the mirror, how her face gently shifts with pleasure. “No God could ever hope to reach you.”

She's quick to put a hand against the large mirror to support herself from tipping forward. Her other hand curls around the dress, choking it with her desire as she fights the lust quickly heating her up, radiating from her craving pussy.

“ _Krem_...” she moans his name with her face pressed towards his.

“I promise you; had you been wearing this to the palace, no one would have paid Celene any attention. All eyes would be trained on only you.”

His words hits so perfectly.

“ _Krem... I-I need... ah_ ,” she fights to keep her voice down, but it's proving to be quite a challenge. Then she feels his smirk against her neck.

“I didn't bring my, uh... you know, strap-on. But...” He licks all the way up her neck till he reaches her ear. “Pull up the dress.”

“What?” she breathes, mind hazy.

Staying behind her, he reaches to grab the front of her pale blue dress, the white underneath, and the inner lace, and he pulls it up, slowly but surely exposing her bare legs underneath. He watches in the mirror, as her well toned thighs appear, where they run all the way up to her tan underwear tied by her hips. Even without touching he can feel the wettish and hot air gathering between her now trembling legs.

Krem breathes deeply to take in all of her scent, his exhale tickles over her chest that heaves with wanton. With his own feet, he pushes hers apart so that her legs spread open in front of their reflection. He wants her so badly.

He gathers all the layers into a tight bunch. “Here, hold this.”

The Inquisitor looks away from their mesmerising image on the glass and down at where he's holding up the skirt for her. She grabs the fabric with an iron fist and lifts it a bit more to properly expose herself to him.

Now he brings a battle-worn hand to each thigh, so soft and pure, devoid of any scars here. He squeezes them gently, eliciting soft whimpers as Lavellan fights her own moans, when his hands slowly move further up. Maker, how he deeply regrets not having brought his member, oh what joy it would have been to bend her forward, against the mirror, to watch himself fill her up so completely.

With great precision and restraint, he draws his hands past where she needs it the most, leaving her trembling impatience, to place his grip by her hips.

“Don't... tease me, _please_.”

He hums joyfully into her skin where his lips starts sucking on creamy skin. With deft fingers and ever vigilant eyes trained on her nether region, he tugs at the strings holding up her underwear at a painfully slow pace.

Lavellan curses something in Elvish as she cannot tear her eyes from where his fingers unravel her, carefully as if she's made of porcelain. She is seconds away from tearing the cloth off herself, and pushing his hand into her warmth.

And when the strings are pulled, the underwear falls to the floor.

She exhales in relief when the calm air finds space between her fiery thighs.

Krem moans, his tongue and teeth carving their way deeper into her skin, as he eyes the exposed pussy. He gently runs his fingers through the white pubic hair gathered at the mound above her longing clit. He can't help but notice how her dainty elven hand tightens its grip around the cloth in restraint; she is shivering and trembling for _his touch_. What a triumph, to have the Herald crave him so deeply she could succumb at any moment.

His fingers slip down, slowly covering her clit with far too little pressure where he rubs gentle circles, teasing her something so rudely, even her staggered moans sounds irritated. But he doesn't linger here, he stares at her in the mirror, watching as her eyes are locked tight onto what he's doing, how his firm fingers inch further and further down.

“You are so damn wet,” he whispers into her ear and nibbles gently at the pointy ends. “Drenched so sweetly for my touch.”

Her lips are parted so wide; ready to cry out his name when he will finally give her what she desires, her brows drawn together.

Krem is torn, between dipping his fingers inside immediately to hear her voice again, or drawing this out as much as possible. He watches with his mouth open in awe of her, as his fingers spreads her labia apart. Carefully slips three fingers back and forth between her slick folds, toying with her by letting his middle finger _just_ feel around the edge of her dripping wet hole, evoking some pained whimpers from Lavellan, then pulls all the way till his fingertips gets to draw circles on her throbbing clitoris. With his whole hand pressed against her, he moves this route a few times, while his left hand has moved up to pull a perky breast from the bust to twirl a nipple between his fingers.

“ _Krem, please,_ I'm begging you,” she whines in the most beautifully pathetic way, so helpless in his strong and secure grip.

“Ahh...” he sighs with incredible self-satisfaction and the widest smirk his face can form. “As your Worship wants it, so shall she have it.”

Three fingers draw out the longest, breathiest wail from the bottom of her soul, as his digits drive in so easily, pushing her far closer to an early orgasm. His hand stills, the base of his palm pressed against her clit, as his fingers curl inside her, making her bend slightly at the wonderful intrusion with intense moans.

“Ssh,” he hushes and bring his left hand from her tit to her mouth.

His right hand draws perfect circles in a slow motion below her. Obscene and lewd squelching noises can easily be heard and it drives him mad, an ache between his own legs he refuses to acknowledge properly. He stares intensely at how her face trembles at his every move as he massages her most precious body, her eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

She moans and whines endlessly into his strong hand from the blissful touch. Without thought, lost in the blinding daze of his fingers, her tongue acts nearly on its own; the tip of it licks where the joint of his index meets his hand. With eager and near immediate reaction, he spreads his fingers lightly so that her tongue can slip between his index and middle finger, licking its way upwards and tugging them in. They taste so perfectly of salt and cologne, mixed with the his sweat.

“Yeah?” he groans against the back of her neck.

He's quick to dip in three fingers where she sucks on them with a pleased hum, her teeth scrape lightly against the fingers. His right hands moves with much more fervour now, fingers pumping in and out as quickly as he can, adding a fourth finger now to stretch her completely. Every plunge in creates a perfect symphony inside her very soul and being, the fire coiling in her as his palm manages to grind with just enough force against her swollen clit.

“ _Krem! Yes, nnh oh._ ”

His name in her mouth is the most beautifully delicious sound he could ever hope to attain in his life; something he would never grow tired of hearing again and again.

“You hear this, right?” he groans and for a few short seconds he gives his hand all the energy he can possibly muster, forcing out a definitely too loud cry. “You are soaking; wetter than the damn Storm Coast.”

“ _Yes..._ ”

“I love touching you like this, making you tremble and weep by my hand,” he speaks through gritted teeth, “you're so soft and perfect; your touch, your smell, your _taste_.”

“ _Krem, I'm-_ ” she forces herself to shut up, lest her voice would be heard through the dressing room door.

“You wanna come? You want _me_ to make you come in this public dressing room?” His hand springs from her drooling mouth and down to her one exposed breast.

“ _Yes_ , please I-I want to... I want you to make me come!” Not that he actually has much say in it now, for she is mere seconds away, out of control, in no authority over anything here, and it is the most free she has felt in months. No pressure on her chest, the worlds fate lifted from her shoulders, she floats in a euphoric state in his grasp.

“Good, come for me, Inquisitor – my Lavellan.” He knows all the right moves it seems, the correct words, the perfect jerks and thrusts that pushes her over the edge, into the warm water below.

Her entire body clenches, her muscles tightening around where his fingers go knuckle deep to carve out the most pleasure from inside. Jolts surge through her, making her bend over so suddenly, she'd surely have fallen to her knees if it wasn't for Krem's spectacular strength holding her tight. She fights the animalistic urge to scream out, it hurts her throat to keep all of the air stuck in her throat and lungs, only letting it escape in short bursts of air.

Now so suddenly her body feels boneless, her knees buckle and she starts to sink.

Krem is quick to assist, his embrace reassuring her as he kneels down behind her, till they're both sitting on the floor, the Inquisitor breathless. She rests against him with no attempt to recover within at least the next minute, her whole body tired and powerless after the most wonderful fingering she has undoubtedly ever received.

“Oh Krem...” she sighs happily.

His left hand gently caresses her chest, slowly running over her collarbone, while he looks at his right hand. The fingers are slightly wrinkly from having been exposed to her delightful wetness, traces of her runs slowly down over his forearm.

Lavellan watches in the mirror as he takes a finger into his mouth, and feels a pleased hum come from where she rests her head against his chest. As he goes to suck another finger clean, she turns as quickly as she can in this puddle of fabric and grabs his hand.

They both eye each other with hazy eyes, lids heavy and eyes glossy with the afterglow. Now it was his turn to watch, as she eyes his middle finger with interest before letting out her tongue to lick it all the way up, then lowers her head on it as if she's sucking something more phallic. He exhales hard, almost a sexually frustrated growl at the sight, when she takes in more fingers to taste herself and let him watch as she basically deep-throats four fingers.

“You have no idea of the fire you ignite inside of me,” his voice is low and husky.

“I would like to find out some day,” she whispers, her lips an inch away from his, voice so sweet and sincere. “To pleasure you...”

He looks her deep in the eyes, moves a hand to caress the back of her neck. “I would like that, too,” he admits and pulls her in for a gentle kiss brimming with the lovable affection they share, emoting words they haven't dared utter yet.

His arms wrap around her in a close embrace, and she nestles in.

“Should we get the dress?” she muses with a blushing grin.

“Oh absolutely, your grace.”


End file.
